Lost Time
by forcedInduction
Summary: Harry laments the time they lost pining for one another. Hermione knows how to get some of it back.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi HP fans. I missed you too.**

**Wannabe Interdimensional Voyeurs, or This Chapter Title Could Have Been a Mad Lib**

It started when they were looking at an old photo. There were precious few photos of the two together, and especially few in which they were the only subjects. This was one of those. In a rare moment of brilliance, Ron had taken it. It depicted Harry and Hermione in the common room, seated on a notoriously squishy crimson couch. Well, Hermione was seated. Harry was merely mostly upright. He'd fallen asleep after a particularly rough quidditch practice, his head lolling to the side, thankfully catching on the incredibly pliant cushions in a way that prevented him from falling over. Ron had taken the photo with the intent of teasing Harry about his moment of weakness at a later date, but he'd inadvertantly captured something much more interesting. Harry's slightly open mouth was good for a laugh, but the look Hermione was giving him – heedless of Ron and the camera – made the photo a keeper.

There was so much love in her eyes. One could tell from her eyes alone just how much she wanted to reach out and touch the sleeping wizard – perhaps to tug his shirt, causing him to fall over. She could gently support him as he fell, finally letting his head rest in her lap where she might stroke his wild, jet-black hair. Of course, if one examined the very bottom edge of the photograph, it was evident that Hermione's hands were operating in wish-fulfillment mode. She'd taken her pinky and curled it around Harry's. _Can't be too obvious. Just a little touch. We're not really holding hands. _She'd rationalized.

When Hermione had seen the picture, she'd been somewhat surprised at her own image. _So bold! The look on my face! Harry can't see this._ She'd taken it from Ron under the pretext of stopping his mean-spirited joke and hidden it away, where it remained very much unappreciated. When she finally showed the picture to Harry (only after they were dating, of course), he thought it was beautiful. Hermione had told him that she'd pined for him silently just as he'd done for her, but this was something else. It was hard evidence. It mesmerized and emboldened him.

Tonight though, Harry's mood took an unexpected turn upon viewing that particular picture. He was usually nostalgic, but now he appeared more morose than anything else. "Do you ever think about the time we lost?" His tone was subdued, and he wore a sad smile. "Loving each other but not knowing it, I mean?"

"A few times." Hermione admitted. "What's wrong?"

"It's just... Things could have been different. Better, maybe." He thought of a few nights when his heart had ached for Hermione so much that he'd actually cried over her. What if he'd never suffered through all that time not knowing she felt the same? "I just can't help but wonder what it would have been like." He sighed. "Sorry for being gloomy." He muttered.

"It's not gloomy." Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It's an interesting question. Somewhere – in the multiverse, I suppose -" She smirked at the oddly scientific idea. "There might be an answer."

"What's the multiverse?" Harry asked.

"It's a theory stating that there are an infinite number of universes. Every instant in time would be a branch – a fork in the road. A new universe. At some point, there was a single beginning, but after that... everything would start to diverge. There could be a different universe for every choice someone might have made. Somewhere, there might be a universe in which we were together when that picture was taken." She examined her younger self. _It could have happened. You adored him. What if I'd just taken his hand? _

"I don't suppose there's any way to take a peek at another universe." Harry said with a wry smile. "Or to just go back and live it again."

"Nothing known to science or magic, I'm afraid." Hermione agreed. She was lost in thought for a moment. Seeing an easy target, Harry moved to kiss her cheek, paying his regular tribute to her for just being _her_. As Harry worked his way to her lips, he felt the corner to which he was closest rise to meet him. Something was going on in that head of hers. "Although, magic might just be able to facilitate a..." She paused, trying to find the right term. "Therapeutic workaround." The smile grew wider. "Give me some time. I have an idea." She had some reading to do.

_Do it over... without going backwards. Yes, that might just work._

But that could wait for tomorrow. For now, she turned her full attention to Harry.

**I'm envisioning short (but possibly more frequent) chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Borrowed Time**

Hermione spent a week searching for a way to reclaim lost time. Soon, Harry's wish became her own. As she fell asleep in Harry's arms after revisiting the picture, she imagined looking into a twelve-year-old Harry's eyes and telling him how much she loved him. The more she'd thought about it, the more the idea consumed her.

The bright witch initially wondered if she was hoping for too much – it was a pretty tall order, after all, to change a person's age_. Am I really going to find it in a book that __**isn't**__bound in human flesh or inked in dragon blood?_ Finally though, she found what she'd been looking for, and in the strangest place – a psychology book. The book listed the potion as one that might be helpful in the relief of "stress conditions." Traumatic childhoods seemed to be the impetus for the elixir's creation, though the book also noted that the potion had a positive effect on those who were merely going through trying times in their adult life. _I suppose I was right about it being a therapeutic exercise._ She had shaken her head and smirked at the irony.

After classes were over for the day and they'd retired to Harry's dorm for their customary evening cuddle, Hermione decided to make her proposal to Harry.

"Harry, what would you say to..." _How to phrase it?_ "Some roleplay?"

"What kind?" Harry asked dubiously. He was a little surprised she'd ask such a question. _Am I boring her somehow?_

"Well, it's nothing too outlandish. It's not some kind of strict professor/naughty student thing." She snickered at the idea of Harry trying but utterly failing to look stern while she played the doe-eyed, wayward student.

"Who would I be, then?" Harry inquired in what he hoped was a confident way, though he was absolutely dreading the answer.

"Well, you'd be... yourself." She replied with adoring eyes.

That was a huge relief. It allayed his concerns about his own possible shortcomings. However, there was still an important question to be answered. "So who would _you_ be?" He asked playfully, lightly scratching her neck. His breath caught a few strands of her hair which tickled her ears mercilessly.

"I would also be myself." She declared proudly, waiting to see if he would figure it out on his own.

He didn't. He fixed her with what he imagined to be a very unsexy look of total confusion. "Then how is that roleplaying?"

"I thought about what you said the other night – you know, about lost time – and I think we can get some of it back." She took him by the jaw and kissed him. He swore he could actually feel her lips vibrate with anticipation. "Harry..." She could barely contain the excitement in her voice. "I can make us young again."

Harry's first reaction was one of alarm. One typically didn't _get_ something like that out of magic without substantial sacrifice. It was the sort of thing he associated more with a Dark Lord than with his sweet, bookish girlfriend. "How?"

Evidently she could see the concern in his face. "It's nothing dark, I promise. Age-reversal spells typically subtract the amount of the reversal off the end of your life, but that's only necessary if you're actually trying to _steal_ youth. I was thinking maybe we could just..." She searched for the proper word. "_Borrow_ youth for a little while. And there happens to be a potion with that effect." She smiled, leaving the idea for Harry's consideration.

He didn't immediately react. After a moment of silence and what Hermione assumed to be deep thought, Harry spoke. "So... we'd be younger again? Temporarily?" It seemed a little strange to be nostalgic for youth when they hadn't actually left it yet. They were only sixteen.

"Yes." She nodded.

"How much younger, and how temporarily?" He inquired.

"Well, I was thinking four years, back to the photograph. How does that sound?"

Harry thought back to his second year. _Pine for Hermione, watch her sigh over Lockhart, nearly lose her to a basilisk. _"It sounds... good." He supposed if they were going to do any age over again, twelve would be a good start. "What about the duration?"

"Hours. Maybe a weekend. The potion I've found has a spell as an activator, so if we wanted to end it early, we could just use _finite incantatem_ and we'd be back to normal." She said brightly.

"What would we actually _do_, though?" He asked. He couldn't see Hermione proposing such a thing without having a loftier goal in mind.

"Well, for starters-" She began, scooting next to Harry and placing her pinkie over his. "We could recreate that photograph." She rested her head on his shoulder. "But this time, we could mix it up a bit."

"Less clothing?" Harry suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Actually, I was thinking you could dress up like Snape and spank me." She said flatly.

"Not funny." Harry declared crossly. "Be more comfortable dressed like Hitler..." He muttered under his breath.

"You love me." Hermione said dismissively.

"True." He admitted with a sigh and a small smile. "So when do you want to do this?"

"Soon. It shouldn't take much more than a week to get the potion ready." She'd gone over the list of ingredients, and all were available, though some might have to be ordered. The recipe's total time to completion was six hours for every year between one's current age and one's desired age, bringing the total to twenty-four hours. _Might have to take that in shifts. _Hermione mused internally.

"How are we going to handle other people seeing us? Are we even going to let them?" Harry was having a difficult time imagining any acceptable explanation for a couple undergoing a controlled age-reversal. It seemed the sort of thing that might net them a detention or a nasty prank from Malfoy.

"Well, if we feel like being out and about, my notice-me-not charms have gotten pretty good. And there's always the cloak for travel." She referred to Harry's invisibility cloak, which had been used many times for exactly the sort of things one would cite as reasons to keep such an item away from teenagers. "I was thinking we'd probably spend the majority of our time alone, though."

"Up here?" Harry indicated the dormitory.

"I was thinking... the Room of Requirement." Hermione said suggestively.

"Oh." Harry's heart leapt. "That could be fun." He nodded and smiled at the possibilities.

* * *

Harry and Hermione had ingested some pretty foul things in the course of their adventures, with polyjuice taking the top prize for vomit-inducing awfulness. Harry theorized that the laws of nature had a sense of humor, perhaps taking pleasure in making something so mind-bogglingly useful taste so horrible. He'd noticed the same issue with healing potions, of which he'd certainly had his share. So he was understandably apprehensive when it came time to drink the potion Hermione had made. _Borrowed time, in liquid form. Quite valuable. _ _This is going to taste like the inside of a vulture, isn't it?_

"So the cook time determines the amount of youth regained, but the dosage roughly controls the duration of the effect." Hermione explained as she portioned the thin, emerald-colored liquid into two glasses.

"So how much are we taking?" Harry inquired, examining the half-inch or so of liquid in the bottom of the glass with a frown.

"Two hours worth." Hermione reported.

"How bad is it going to taste?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Well, if I had to venture a guess, I'd say not that bad. Perhaps just strange, maybe even good if we're lucky. It doesn't _look _bad." She said hopefully, gesturing toward the shimmering liquid.

Harry had to admit she was right about that. It was thin and clear, though tinted a deep green. If he didn't know any better, he could have believed it was a muggle sports drink or soda. Unfortunately, a preemptive smell test was not possible, as the recipe called for a fume vanisher to be placed over the cauldron during the cooking process. They were strongly cautioned not to inhale any of the vapor, lest the transformation happen with uncomfortable speed.

Hermione picked up both glasses and offered one to Harry. "Ready?" She asked.

"I suppose." Harry nodded, blowing the vapor off the top of his dose of liquid nostalgia. "See you four years ago?" He raised his glass with a smirk.

"Of course." Hermione rolled her eyes and clinked her glass against Harry's. They weren't really traveling through time, but it would be a trip of sorts.

The young lovers drank.

"Minty!" Harry exclaimed in surprise as he gulped his dose down.

"Mmm." Hermione agreed, nodding and holding the glass away from her face to avoid the fumes. Finally, she swallowed the mouthful of greenish liquid and let out a sigh of relief. She blinked in surprise at the sensation of her stomach bubbling. Though it tickled, it was really more shocking than pleasant. She was about to ask Harry if he was feeling the same thing when his eyes fluttered shut and he slumped unconscious.

"Oh, does that mean I'm going to-" She began indignantly, but before she could finish the sentence, she went limp. Thankfully, she'd been headed roughly in Harry's direction before her muscles betrayed her. Her last thought as she fell onto her boyfriend was a wish that she might not land too heavily on his crotch.


	3. Chapter 3

**I've recently started going back through Nocturnal and giving it a new coat of paint. No new elements, but I'm planning to go through and tighten up the earlier chapters a bit. I feel like I've improved since the story was written, so I figured I'd go back and make it the best it could be. New and improved chapters 1 through 3 are up already.**

**Darkroom of Requirement, or Rewrite**

Hermione awoke to the sound of her boyfriend's voice. "I think I might have a Hermione-shaped bruise." Harry muttered.

Harry's voice was higher, yet strained, as though his chest was constricted. _Oh, that's me._ "Sorry." Hermione muttered, lifting herself off Harry's shrunken frame.

Harry used his new-found freedom to sit upright, which gave Hermione a chance to examine him. "Oh my." She reached forward to pinch one of Harry's cheeks. "You're _adorable_." She grinned.

"_You're_ adorable." Harry countered with a chuckle, trying to defend his face from her attack.

"It really worked." Hermione ceased her assault and shook her head in wonder. "We both look like second years." Her smile threatened to split her face.

"Hey..." Harry began with a sly smile. "We should surprise Ron. We could take some of the potion and do it in the morning - he's always the last one out of the dorm. He'll think he woke up in the past or something." He laughed.

"No." Hermione said flatly, though after a few seconds she had to stifle a smile. _I shouldn't have pictured it._

"You're no fun." Harry attempted to pout.

"Tell me that when I'm snogging you later." Hermione challenged.

"I don't think I will." Harry shook his head wisely.

"No, I don't think you will." Hermione agreed with a fond smile. She reached out to cup Harry's cheek. Harry began moving in for a kiss, but Hermione gently stopped him. "Can we wait – until the scene is set, that is?" She inquired apologetically.

"Sure." Harry smiled. It seemed she was really looking forward to creating this new memory with him, and he was glad for the chance to make her happy. "Shall we get going?"

"Definitely." Hermione agreed.

* * *

"You know, pretty much every time we were smashed together under the cloak I had a... an _issue_ below the belt." Harry muttered as they slowly made their way to the Room of Requirement. It was nice to be able to fit under the cloak together again, but it brought back awkward memories.

"Really? I never noticed." Hermione was surprised. She chalked the oversight up to nerves resulting from proximity to the object of her desire, though naivete may have been a factor.

"Yeah. I was terrified you'd bump against it and... I don't know. Hex me and never speak to me again." He trailed off sadly.

"I wouldn't have done that." Hermione was hurt at the idea that Harry had been so afraid. "I'd have been excited to know you felt that way about me. And even if I wasn't willing to admit I felt the same, I still wouldn't have left you. I'd have taken it as a compliment, once I got over the shock." She smiled.

"Would you?" Harry asked dubiously.

"I'd like to think so, yes." Hermione said uncertainly. It was a strange thing to wonder.

"So... you wouldn't freak out, then, if I did... this?" Hermione felt something vaguely cylindrical press against her bum and immediately stopped walking.

"Did you just bump my arse with your erection?" The young witch asked flatly.

"Might have." Harry began to laugh.

"I'm starting to think maybe it's not just your _physical_ maturity that's been dialed back." Hermione said sarcastically, though she enjoyed a private smile at her boyfriend's tawdry sense of humor.

"You say that, but I notice you're not moving." Harry whispered in the vicinity of her ear. He was still lightly pressed against her. His arms circled round to her front – one over her stomach and one rising to stroke her neck.

"You know, just because I specifically wanted to wait on a kiss..." Hermione began, her words somewhat uneven as Harry's hands wandered. "That doesn't mean I was suggesting we skip straight to this."

"Is that a complaint?" Harry murmured.

Hermione wasn't quite sure. "It's... an observation." She decided.

"Ah, so we can continue, then?" She could hear the triumphant smile in his voice.

"Not here." She said breathlessly. "In the Room. After the kiss."

"Lead on." Harry whispered, nudging her neck wish his cheek to urge her forward.

The trek to the Room of Requirement was long and tedious, and - like all other journeys made under the cloak - it resulted in some back pain. When they arrived at the section of wall that formed the gateway to the Room, the young (though recently much younger) lovers stopped in the shadow of an alcove to stretch.

"I do like being close, but traveling together under this thing is rather like being in a suitcase, don't you think?" Hermione groaned as she stretched her neck.

"It's certainly a strain." Harry agreed. "Ready to go in?"

Hermione smiled excitedly and approached the slab of ancient rock that looked entirely unlike a door. "We'd like a copy of the Gryffindor common room, please." Hermione stated clearly and politely to the wall. She paced in front of it three times. Like clockwork, a door appeared, which Harry rushed to open for his girlfriend, it being the gentlemanly thing to do. The clever witch entered, trailing a hand which Harry accepted, allowing her to lead him inside.

Harry had never seen the Room fail to deliver on a request, yet its talent for forgery continued to amaze him. It was perfect. Every cushion, every stain on every leather chair, every creaky step up to the dormitories, every piece of parchment tacked to the bulletin board, as recent as this morning (and perhaps with one or two new additions) - it was all there.

"Perfect." Hermione summarized. "Shall we?" She nodded toward the couch.

Harry smiled in response. "Aren't we going to need a camera?" He imagined Hermione would want a new version of the photo as a souvenir.

"There's one on the coffee table." She pointed to the table nearest the couch they'd be using. There was indeed a camera. Harry could have sworn there was nothing there a moment ago, but he would never be sure. The Room seemed to delight in making people wonder about things like that.

The young lovers took a seat on the couch, smiling awkwardly at one another. Intimacy came quite naturally to them by this point, but it seemed that _reenacting_ intimacy wasn't quite as easy as it looked on paper.

"So, I'm er... supposed to be asleep, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "Just... just pretend." The clever young girl giggled at the absurdity of it all.

Harry closed his eyes and settled back into the couch, trying to relax his body in a way that would suggest unconsciousness. "OK. I'm asleep." He grinned, keeping his eyes shut.

Hermione shook with silent laughter. _Merlin, we're odd. But we're odd together, I suppose. _Harry's grin faded, and after a moment, she could almost believe he was really asleep. This was it. The scene really was indistinguishable from the photograph. _Time for a rewrite._

The bushy-haired girl rose to her knees on the marshmallowy cushions, holding onto the back of the couch to maintain her balance as she leaned in toward Harry's face. She _could_ have just turned her head and kissed him since they were seated so close to one another, but Hermione found this method of attack more appealing. _More exciting. _She was an inch from Harry's ear. She licked her lips, took a shallow breath, and spoke. "I love you, Harry Potter." She whispered. A twelve-year-old Hermione had said those words now.

She heard the camera click.

Hermione closed the miniscule distance to press her lips to Harry's cheek.

Click.

She dragged her lips from Harry's jaw to his mouth, keeping the contact feather-light until she was in position to kiss him properly. Two sets of lips met, and the act was punctuated by another click from the camera.

Harry gave up the illusion of slumber, reaching up to cup Hermione's cheek and respond to the kiss. She climbed into his lap, and it wasn't long before her tongue came into play.

When they came up for air, Harry wore a wolfish grin. "Is this really proper behavior for two second years?" He teased.

"No. That's why it's so much fun." Hermione answered breathlessly before returning to the task at hand.

Click.

Harry was humbled by the moments that followed. It was like watching the world being destroyed, but in reverse, so that it appeared to be fixing itself instead of falling apart. All those moments he'd wanted to reach out and touch Hermione but didn't because he feared alienating her – they faded from his mind as the new experience came into the fore. He was living a dream - pretty much every good dream he'd had when he was twelve - but it was all real. There was now a moment in time when a second-year Hermione had kissed a second-year Harry, and he'd kissed her back, and it felt very right. _This is the way it should have been._

Hermione's lips had gained momentum and soon arrived on the shell of Harry's ear. The young couple were growing dizzy with desire and soon found themselves tipping over into a fevered embrace that became something of a battle for dominance. As the battle raged on, Harry dimly registered several clicks of the camera. Two small bodies fought a war of kisses, nips, bites, gropes, and breaths like puffs of steam, but eventually the steam ran out.

The young lovers drifted off in each other's arms and woke some time later to find that they had returned to their true age as they slept.

"How long were we out?" Harry murmured. He spoke with no hurry. He was far too deep in drowsy bliss to care what the answer was, anyway.

Hermione checked her watch. "Twenty minutes, maybe? I'm not sure when we fell asleep." She gave a tiny, uncaring shrug and ran her fingers through her boyfriend's jet-black hair.

"Look at that." Harry inclined his head slightly toward the coffee table in front of the couch. The camera lay on the table, surrounded by a haphazard collection of twenty or so already-developed wizarding photographs. "You took a lot of pictures." He commented. "I guess it's the Darkroom of Requirement now." Harry chuckled quietly at his own joke.

"Actually the Room took them. I didn't lift a finger toward the camera. I guess it knew what we wanted." Hermione began examining the pictures with a tired-but-radiant smile.

"It always does." Harry reminded her. Harry loved the Room of Requirement, and sometimes wondered if perhaps it didn't love him right back.


End file.
